


To Have and to Hold

by marchstarling



Category: Loveless
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:41:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25360312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marchstarling/pseuds/marchstarling
Summary: Ritsuka, Ritsu, and Soubi between them.Ritsuka stops to chat with a garden witch before storming the castle.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 5





	To Have and to Hold

Since Ritsuka has been on the server, LOVELESS’ avatar level has bumped up considerably. He spawns in wearing a set of shining armor. The avatar had moved on instinct from unaligned into the paladin class. 

He uses the sword at his side to cut through the thorns circling the greenhouse. The sword in his hands is clumsy, the weight of it making him sweat, but it does its magic under his command and grants him access to what he is seeking. 

The greenhouse doors close softly behind him. He pulls down his hood and steps forward to find Ritsu tending to a batch of unwelcoming roses. 

“I see you’ve made it.” Ritsu says, fingers brushing a stubborn petal back into alertness. 

“The front door was overrun. I had to use my sword to cut an entrance.” 

Ritsu turns to him. His eye bandages are pure white, just like the ones Soubi wears around his throat. “If you couldn’t find a way past the surface thorns, then I wasn’t going to waste my time with you. Now come.” 

Ritsu beckons him past rows of flowers. They let off a sweet scent that tickles Ritsuka’s nose. He sniffles, eyes watering. The lightness feels wrong, knowing what he now knows. The greenhouse, which looked so big and grand as a level 0 nobody, now appears small, the windows dusty with neglect. 

They settle in an office like the one Ritsuka’s therapist favors. Ritsuka takes the couch, and Ritsu the chair by the desk. 

“What are the boxes on the walls for?” 

The squares of velvet bleed the space dry. They’re incongruent with the sparse nature of the room. 

“They used to house the butterflies I collected. It was a hobby I kept with for many years. Then, I let one go. The one I prized the most. It was something I never should have done. After that, I didn’t want the others, so I disposed of them. I’m left with their empty nests. I think your brother’s gift--” Ritsu taps at his bandages. “--would have struck deeper if I was still in the business of coveting them. As I am now, I’m afraid his gift wasn’t as painful as he wished.” 

Ritsuka squirms in his seat, his knee braces knocking together. He knows Seimei cut out Ritsu’s eyes. He’d seen his own name written with the blood of the deed. Yet it burns to have someone speak ill of his brother. Even if, to speak ill, they only need to speak the truth. 

“I’m here about Soubi. Not my brother.” 

“Your brother is at the heart of Soubi. I can’t talk about one without talking about the other.” 

The disgust is ripe in Ritsu’s tone. Seimei is, despite what a younger Ritsuka would have believed, someone who is almost universally despised. In his hatred, Ritsu is normal. It’s an uncomfortable thought, one Ritsuka would rather not entertain. 

“Then talk. Tell me what I need to do to get Soubi back.” 

“You’re determined, then?” 

“Soubi didn’t want to go. I could tell. He asked me not to abandon him. I promised I wouldn’t, and I don’t break promises.” 

“That’s noble of you. Soubi would not extend you the same kindness. He up and left, if my sources are accurate.”

“I said he didn’t want to.” Ritsuka’s tail stands on end, his ears flaring into points. “He can’t disobey BELOVED’s orders, and Seimei ordered him.” 

“You don’t blame him for his own abandonment?”

“No.” Ritsuka says, posture defensive. 

“Good.” Ritsu says. He leans forward, intent. “You know going into this that Soubi won’t make it easy for you, yet you stand by him. You recognize the true power that BELOVED’s name holds.” 

“I need a way to subvert that power.” 

“That statement alone is subversive. What you want to do goes beyond mere subversion. You desire an out-and-out dismantling.”

“I have hands, don’t I?” Ritsuka gets the feeling that he’s being toyed with, and it has him toe-ing the line of fed up. “So teach me how to use them, to dismantle. You were a teacher, right?”

Ritsu doesn’t laugh. Ritsuka can’t imagine him as a person capable of such a thing. He does smile, though. He’s doing it right now. 

“You’ve come, cut through the hostile thorns, and defended Soubi’s honor. I’ll help you get on the path you seek. I make no promises you’ll succeed.”

“I know.” Ritsuka says. “And I know you don’t think I will.” 

“You have perceptive eyes for a child. Of course, that’s not surprising. I wouldn’t expect the average child to take delight in Soubi.” 

“That’s not right. Kids like Soubi. It’s easier for him to be easy in front of them.” Yuiko and Soubi, hair-up, glitter on their fingers and cheeks. Ritsuka should have paid closer attention to their craft; instead, he had taken the time to scoff. 

“I’ve heard that the two of you have had quite a tumultuous relationship. No one would describe it as easy.”

“We didn’t go easy on each other. And,” Ritsuka balls his fists. “I’m not an easy kid.”

“I’m inclined to agree.”

That smarts. Despite Ritsu’s tone not being sickly-ripe at him. “Was Seimei an easy kid?” 

Dumb. He had fallen on safe-thoughts in the midst of his discomfort, but the safe-thought—Seimei—is no longer safe. 

“I would have described him as such upon meeting him. A bit confident, but Soubi needed that. However, he disabused us of that notion when he cut thorns into Soubi’s neck for no reason other than his personal amusement. By then, it was too late.” 

To hear it hurts, but it clearly hurts Ritsu to tell it. If he had eyes, the man might have closed them in shame. 

“You’re the one who gave Soubi away?” 

“Yes.”

“So you want to bring him back.”

“Soubi can’t be brought back, not to what he once was. Seimei left his mark. In the process, he destroyed Soubi.” 

“Everyone always says things like that. Like Soubi has been defiled forever for having belonged to BELOVED. But I met Soubi after everything that happened to him, and maybe I wasn’t sure for a while, but...” Again, these balled fists, combined with this defensive posture: “I want him as he is now! I think he must have been easier before, so I understand. But the Soubi of before isn’t my Soubi.” 

“Your Soubi, hmm?”

Red sprouts across Ritsuka’s face like a rash. “I— I mean—“ 

“Better yours than that brat’s. That possessiveness is good, too. It will help you.” 

“I don't want to be a bad person.” 

“You think a possessive nature makes you bad?” Ritsu motions to Ritsuka’s side. “Take out your sword and lay it across your lap.”

The sword is hot in Ritsuka’s palms, and it is hot on his thighs, alive. He has to will himself to stillness. 

“What do you do with a sword?”

“You fight with it. But Soubi isn’t—“

“Take this seriously. I’m attempting to make things easier for you with this example. Do me the courtesy of giving back that same ease; engage in the exercise. Now,” Ritsu points. “This is your sword. It was attached to your hip, after all. What do you do with it?” 

Ritsuka’s fingers close around the hilt. “I would use it.” He bites out. “I used it to get here. But I would never use it excessively. And, when I was done, I would clean it, and polish it, and—“

Ritsuka shuts his eyes.

“Stop that!” Ritsuka, who had not imagined Ritsu as a person capable of shouting, blinks open. Ritsu continues at his stare: “Keep your eyes open at all times when discussing this; this is not something you can shame yourself over. If you shame yourself, you shame your sword. Now what were you going to say?”

“And—after I cleaned it and polished it, I would hang it on my mantle, because it’s beautiful, and it’s mine, and I want everyone who sees it to know to admire it.” 

“What is it worth, this sword?” 

“It’s priceless!” Ritsuka yells, furious through the tears. He clings to the sword’s hilt with wretched fingers. “I never would have gotten here without it. I couldn’t have crossed the thorns alone.” 

“Why are you crying?” 

“Because it’s wrong!” 

“It’s wrong to treat a sword as a sword?” 

“Soubi isn’t—“ 

“It’s wrong to clean a sword, polish it, cherish it? It’s wrong to want others to see the beauty in it, to put it in a place of honor? Think about what you’re saying, listen to your instincts instead of what you’ve told yourself you ought to want.” 

Ritsuka breathes through the overwhelming desire to reject, to shut his eyes and never open them again. To comfort himself, he pets the length of his sword. The heat of it makes his palms blush. The blush reminds him; he can’t go to sleep and leave this to rest. 

“What did Seimei do with his sword?”

“He threw it away.” 

“What is the worst fate a sword can come by?” 

“To be abandoned.” 

“Do you see?” 

“I do.” 

“It hurts. It is going to hurt more. Seimei designed it that way. Now have some tea and calm yourself.” 

They drink tea, Ritsuka holding his sword close to his heart. The sun goes down and the stars wink into brilliant resistance against the dark. Eventually, the tear-tracks on Ritsuka’s face fade and the lump in his throat folds back into that ever-present pebble that threatens to choke but never quite manages it. Ritsuka can breathe around discomfort; he’s invested a lifetime in doing so. 

“Soubi has done things you would never approve of as BELOVED’s fighter.” 

“I know.” 

“You’ll have to hurt him to help him.” 

“I know.” 

“There’s the overwhelming likelihood that you won’t succeed.” 

“That’s the least scary thing about this whole mess.” Ritsuka sets down his tea. The chime of cup against saucer is finality, destiny. “It’s time for me to go.” 

“Take this advice before you leave. Remember what I told you, about the gift not hurting as much as it should?” 

“I wouldn’t likely forget.” 

So Ritsu can laugh. He is human, after all. “Why didn’t it hurt as much as it should?” 

“Because you stopped collecting butterflies. You let them go.” 

“Why?” 

“Because you wanted to.” 

“Why? I didn’t want to before.” 

“But you changed. You changed. You’re changing right now.”

“Exactly. Humans can do that. What is Seimei frequently referred to as?” 

“Inhuman.” Ritsuka whispers. 

“He can’t change. That’s what makes him strong, but it’s also what makes him weak. Worse, he doesn’t understand change in others, because he can’t relate it to himself. Soubi has been his for years, but, when visiting the academy, what did Soubi do?” 

At this point, the prompting isn’t needed. Ritsuka can reach the necessary conclusion by himself. All it takes is listening to the dreaded instinct: “He heard me through our bond. He came to me.” 

And, really, is it to be dreaded when it leads to his greatest wish: Soubi, in the flesh? For the first time, Ritsuka wonders. Perhaps it is the human in him. 

“He came to you. He wouldn’t have, before. Remember that when you’re out subverting. Hands are good. Hands can dismantle. For what do hands hold?” 

Ritsuka ties his sword securely to his side.


End file.
